This Fic Has No Title
by TheNaughtyBits
Summary: Bill is catatonic, and Charlie comes to save him. Please review. Updated three chapters 12/08
1. Chapter 1

**This Piece Has No Title. **

**(And amazingly no warnings! Yay!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. The fact he married Ginny proves this.**

**Authors Notes: IMPORTANT:** When Bill moves in the dark it had no effect on his body. The dark is just the place Bill is in his mind right now, and his body is catatonic, which basically means it doesn't move or feel, but it's not paralysed because it's all still working and the potential for movement and feeling is still there.

Bill Weasley lay in a pristine private room in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, starring blankly at the ceiling. He'd been like that for almost two weeks. Catatonic shock they called it. Scars mutilated his face, lacing across his bare chest and arms, healed by magic but still contaminated wounds never able to fade. His eyes were open and glassy, staring avidly at the ghosts of cobwebs left unnoticed on the ceiling, emotionless pools of a deep azure sea. Small magical machines buzzed and whirred around him, constantly offering up-to-date information on his condition.

The shock hadn't been instant, after Fenir had done his work Bill was awake for days on end, lucid and angry enough to send all visitors away and hide behind a veil of screens. He sent all his family and friends rudely away, and Fleur screaming, in tears. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry him anymore, she did, perhaps even more so, it was just he couldn't stand to see her perfection. He couldn't stand her pitying looks or the way she couldn't meet his eyes, or the soft gentle touches or even the way she prattled on about her 'big day' and the wedding plans as if nothing had happened. Nobody knew what set of his shock, but one minute he was giving orders that none but his directly mentioned next of kin should be admitted to see him, and the next he was falling back, engulfed in darkness. There was only one person he wanted to see.

Charlie Weasley appeared at the door, knocking awkwardly, before stepping across the threshold. He never liked hospitals, but that wasn't why the redhead was so apprehensive. His brother had always been a role model, a star to him, just the epiphany of cool where ever he went and whatever he did. Then as they grew older and closer they became best friends, separated by a scant year. It was such a shock to see his brother lying in the hospital bed like this, scarred, wan and weak. A few months ago when they saw each other, Bill had be lively and laughing, arguing with their mum about the length of his hair, which was a battle, Charlie noticed with a ghost of a half-smile, that their Mum hadn't won.

"Hey Bill. How you doing?" Charlie asked softly moving to the bed. He tried to make his voice sound light and cheerful but it sounded just the same, grave and quiet. The scars were a shock. That handsome face so cruelly disfigured made his heart pang in a way that wasn't expected. They looked almost deliberate, shaped to create the maximum effect. The younger brother shuddered. He could imagine Greyback taking his time and enjoying creating those marks. The blue eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, and Charlie's softer greener eyes crinkled, suppressing the glimmer of a tear.

Bill felt his brother's presence the moment he stepped into the room. He didn't hear the knock or the footsteps, but that scent was unmistakable. Earthy, but clean and spicy, so comforting and dry. The prone man felt the air adjust as Charlie let out a long sigh, and pressed an awkward kiss to his temple. It was different though, not like Fleur's kisses landed upon lips and vanished, so fast he could barely feel them, or his mother's, so sloppy and wet, doubtlessly accompanied by a bone crushing hug or a flood of tears. Charlie's were different. Soft lips pressed firmly, determined and sure, given gladly from love rather than guilt or grief and left the skin tingling from the touch. A pair of fingers tangled in his hair, not stroking him as if he was a pet but freeing the stands from its ponytail. Through the darkness, Bill thought he saw a flash of red hair on the edge of his vision, and turned toward it. The scent was stronger that way. A hand absent-mindedly fiddled with the long soft hairs coating his arm.

"Where ever you are, Bill, that brain's still ticking. I don't care what the mediwizards say." Charlie murmured, sitting down still holding his brother's hand. "You're in there somewhere, and when you find you way out, I'll be here waiting. Whatever Greyback did, you just need some time to work through it. And when you have, I'll be right here by your side to welcome you out. " The hand left his hair and smoothed it back into place. The fingers were rough and worn - workman's hands - but it was a touch Bill could feel across the darkness, and it was a touch he held on to, groping forward after its warmth. Charlie sighed and pulled a muggle cassette player from his pocket, and placed it on Bill's bed, pressing play. He'd read soewhere that music could help, but he hadn't brought it for that. He'd brought it to cover the hollow spelled silence that he knew Bill hated. His brother was just the same on the inside, just a little lost.

Bill heard the music, juast as he smelt his brother's scent. They were all signposts on the path out. They would get him away from the beast that lurked out there in the darkness. Charlie would be his light.

Charlie sat in the chair, dozing lightly. It was nearing dawn and he was caught in a world of memories, both happy and sad. He remembered this song, he remembered it very well. Bill was playing this song the time when he first got into the Quidditch team as Chaser. He was so proud, he'd be the youngest student on the team for seventeen years to have a letter of acceptance sent to him over the summer. Bill had been so proud and ruffled his hair in that pleased way. It had really been Bill's doing that got him into the team, letting his younger brother go for rides on his broom, the best in the entire family, and sitting behind him on there Dad's when they were very young, teaching him all the tricks and feints he had read about in his Young Wizard's magazine. Charlie smiled at the golden image that formed in his mind. When he burst into there room, Bill had been topless, and singing this song in his light baratonevoice, wiggling his hips in what could have been a dance.Charlie had laughed and told him the news and Bill had poked and tickled him, and then they had gone outside to practice with a ball.He awoke suddenly, alerted by something. He'd slumped forward onto Bill's bed, pillowed by his brother's arm. But that wasn't the best part. The hand in his was gripping back.

charlie sat up, not letting go. The music had stopped.

"Bill?"

A smile curled on the scarred features. "Little bro..." The voice was horse and weak, so disused, but still there. Still tangiable. Charlie stifeled a yawn, standing and leaning over his brother excitedly.

"Are you awake? Am I dreaming?"

Bill tried to chuckle, but there was no sound. "I think so, but if you ae dreaming, for godssake don't stop."Charlie smiled weakly, and there was a moment's silence. Quenstions like how are you all seemed too stupid to fill it.

"You look tired," Bill observed. "Come, sleep here. At least you'll be comfortable." With Charlie's help, his shifted over to one side of the bed, and watched the other man removed his jacket and boots, and slide in next to him.

"You won't go again, will you?" Charlie asked before he could stop himself.

"No, of course not." His brother replied. "Just make sure my heart keeps beating." He joked. Charlie nodded and lowered his head to his brother's bare chest, pulling the blankets up over them both. He felt Bill wrap his arm around him and heard him faintly groan. Slowly, they two siblings eased into the world of dreams, their fingers entwined in Bill's lap.

Mr and Mrs. Weasley had come to visit early that morning, before the secutary got in to stop them. Tall Mr. Weasely walked with his arms around his wife's shaking shoulder's, and together they approached the doorway. Mrs.Weasley smiled faintly and dabbed at her eyes.

"They've always done that. Even when Bill had Dragon-pox." She murmured more to herself than her husband. "When things happen he only ever lets Charlie in," She sighed almost wistfully, and blew her nose. Beside her, her husband nodded, silently squeezing her shoulders and steering her back the way they came.

"At least we know he's safe now." He murmured, his eyes lingering just a fraction of a second too long on the interlocked fingers and Bill's peacefully closed eyes. "He'll be alright."

The door to the private ward slammed shut, but in Bill's room the noise didn't touch them, the two brothers just quietly slept one, deeply entwined in each other's dreams breathing almost in time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two of the Nameless Slightly Angst Comfort Fic.**

**Warnings: **More mature readers can probably see where the end of this chap is going, so I'm shoving this up to a T. And that will likely rise, although I'll try to keep it down.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did I would allow him to stop pretending to be straight.**

**Author's notes:** I still can't get a title for this. I'm thinking maybe imperfect, or perhaps Unperfect… I'm not sure. Again, A-level workload is eating my time and energy so this might be a bit crap, sorry. Oh, and I'm a total whore for reviewers, so if you have an opinion I'd love to hear it.

When Bill awoke, he felt a calm in a way he never had before. He was warm, the gentle weight of his brother resting across his chest. Bubbles of noise filtered to him from the distance outside, a delicate symphony of birdsong and life kept in beat by the monotonous beat of the clock. He looked down at his brother. The boy, well, man now, Bill supposed, looked so beautiful – unscarred, long eyelashes, and the glint of light that found gold in his hair. He kissed it lightly, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. It was intoxicating, dark and herbal, with the heady, earthy scent of Charlie underneath. It was a heady mix, so real it was almost tangible. He could almost taste it.

His arms unconsciously tightened around the muscular form as a single pair of footsteps approached and then faded away. He felt his brother snuggled closer, attracted to the warmth and emitting a small, sleepy yawn. That caused Bill to smile slightly, the muscles tingling at the now unfamiliar formation interrupted by cruel scars. Those yawns were always the same. The smile curved and suddenly Bill was away, lost in a flood of memories that overcame him.

_"Charlie! Charlie! Wake up!" Bill was excitable, a boy of nine, his vibrant red hair just on the verge of too long. Charlie, a year younger was eight, his green eyes clouded and sleepy. They both wore identical pyjamas, and slept in twin beds in the same room. The rest of the Burrow was still in a secretive, hushed silence. The sun was just rising outside, but darkness had yet to unveil the sky._

"_It's Christmas, Charlie! Look! Father Christmas has been!" Then there was that adorable yawn as Charlie sat up, a smile overtaking his sleepiness. He nodded and slid out of bed taking his brother's hand. It was a private tradition of the two older brothers to sneak down at the crack of dawn and make there mother breakfast each year. Neither of them knew when exactly it had become a tradition but one year Charlie had had a nightmare, so the two brothers had snuck downstairs to find some milk, and saw there mother waking up while everything was dark to put the Christmas dinner on, so they had made her toast and a large mug of strong tea._

_Now, they snuck down the stairs together, both now wrapped in their dressing gowns, they descended the stairs, holding hands. Their bare feet pattered across the flagstones to the cupboard where Charlie found the bread and Bill put on the kettle. Despite being younger, it was always Charlie's job to cut the bread, as every time Bill tried the knife would slip. Soon they heard the familiar sound of their mother's slippers on the stairs, and hastened, spilling the milk._

_Molly Weasley appeared tired, but smiling, and the boys carried her breakfast to the table, before climbing up to sit on her knees. Charlie yawned again, and soon enough they were upstairs, tearing into their presents._

_It was the morning of Charlie's twelfth birthday, and the two brothers woke up together in Bill's bed. In his second year, Charlie rarely got homesick anymore, but his birthday was a noted exception. They were both awake, the hangings of Bill's bed closed, but neither of them spoke. They just lay together in silence. Bill could see his brother was not just homesick though. The younger boy was worried, nervously biting his lip, and Bill knew why. A few days previously, he'd heard some other boys the second year dormitory talk about Charlie whilst the boy wasn't there, saying how his magic wasn't really that strong. But, the older boy had come up with a solution. _

_"Hey, Charlie, go get dressed. I have something I was to show you." He murmured quietly, lightly poking his brother. Charlie sat up, yawned that cute little yawn and nodded, stumbling out of the room. It was still very early, so nobody else would be awake. He led his brother through the dark school, wakening the Fat Lady and bumping into and aggravated Nearly-Headless Nick and a delighted Peeves. Their feet crunched across the frost-sharp lawn as they headed towards Hagrid's hut. The knocked, and the half-giant appeared grinning at Bill and offering Charlie a rather burnt attempt at a cake._

_Ignoring Charlie's curious questions, Hagrid lead both boys through the forest, loosely holding his crossbow, "just in case". He lead them into the forest diagonally for about half an hour, until they came to a clearing surrounded by large thick bushes. Half hidden in one just of the path was an old school broomstick._

_"Now, this ain't very fast like, but if 2nything' 'appens, you need to get out the way a bit sharpish. They ain't dangerous, they jus' frighten easy." Bill nodded and climbed onto the front of the broomstick, feeling Charlie get on behind him, feeling a hidden yawn being pressed into his shoulder._

Bill shuddered at the memory, and found a pair of deep green eyes looking into his. He tried to smile again.

"Morning" His younger brother yawned sleepily, sitting up and stretching. Bill watched the muscles move and flex in fascination. While his job required his to be fit and lean, he'd never bulked up like Charlie. "So, when do they serve the food around here?" He asked innocently, grinning. Bill tried to chuckle, but his throat was dry and painful.

'You wouldn't want it.' Those were the words he tried to say, but his voice wouldn't work. All that sounded was a dry rasp. The soft green eyes grew more serious, and the grin faded from sight. Charlie swung himself out of bed and looked around for a bucket of ice or water. In the long, silent corridor outside, there was a vending machine, and he shoved some spare change through the slot, wincing at the clang of the bottle as it fell.

When he returned to the room, Bill was in an almost identical position, his eyes scared. He tried to talk again.

"Oh gods. You can't move." There was no sound form Bill but Charlie could see the obvious, and blinded by panic ran into the corridor screaming for the nurse. Three medi-wizards came running, one disappearing back and one grabbing Bill's right arm and running sensation tests with his wand. The other one stopped next to Charlie.

"This is perfectly common, Mr Weasley. Now, why don't you come along with me to the relatives lounge and I'll explain while we wait for the next of kin."

"I'm not leaving him." Charlie said flatly, walking to Bill's side. Now that he looked at the dark-haired medic, Charlie realised she was in fact an officious looking witch with blonde hair and an extraordinarily short wand. Her lipstick smile became forced.

"Sir, you have no right to stay here without the express permission of the patient, or his next of kin."

The medi-wizard running his wand over Bill shot the nurse with a look.

"He is and does." He told her distractedly, pushing strands of his dark hair from his face. "Will you please go and fetch my patient some water, and ice chips please. Also, a medium strength lozenge potion would be advisable." After she huffed out of the room, the doctor flicked the door shut and pulled the blanket from Bills legs. Charlie blushed, not realising the paper gown Bill wore had risen so high. A faint blush appeared on the older brother's face too, and Charlie hastened to rectify the situation.

The doctor meticulously checked Bill's legs before covering them back over, and standing back.

"Well, that all looks positive. Simply put, you're just a bit stiff, and it'll take you a while to get used to movement. You only awoke last night, and haven't really moved since, so it's almost like you've just woken from a three-week sleep. It'll be quite common each morning, until you get back to moving properly again."

"How long do you think that'll be?" Charlie asked, as Bill opened his mouth to speak.

The medi-wizard made a non-committal noise at the back of his throat. "I can't tell you for sure. I'll be happy for you to leave when you alright on your feet, and I'm confidant your coma was nothing more than shock. Maybe a week, maybe three, maybe even a month or more. Who with you be staying with?"

"Our parents, I guess-" Charlie began to say but trailed off as Bill scowled and shook his head emphatically, pointing at his brother. "Or me. I don't mind." Charlie shrugged. "It doesn't matter he goes, I'll still go with him." He took his brothers hand and felt a comforting squeeze in response, though Bill still looked at the doctor.

"What will you need me to do, doc?"

"It's senior medi-wizard Murrell, but you can call me Chris." He winked, grinning. "I should probably tell you both, it's common practice for accident victims to be assigned to a course of psycho-therapy, and you'll need to come in for observation over the full moon just so we can check your level of infection. We don't know how many wolfish tendencies you'll have, if any at all, but chances are you'll be infected partially."

"Why the psycho-therapy? My brother's not insane." He didn't notice but his hand tightened around Bill's.

The medi-wizard smiled. "We know that Mr. Weasley, but as I said, it's standard practice. Sometimes patients find it useful to have somebody there helping them get used to things after their accident. Other times it's unnecessary, and the patient just enjoys the time to chat." There was an awkward moment's pause, and a nurse walked in with a bowl of ice chips and several bottles.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, if you could take Bill's right arm, I'll just administer this…" He uncorked a dark green bottle pulled a almost comically large spoon from his pocket, pouring out a dose. Bill drunk it calmly, but made a face as the medic turned away, the fang in his earring jiggling. Charlie repressed a smirk. Bill always made the same face anytime he had to take medicine, even when they'd both been caught by a storm whilst out at Quidditch Practice and Madame Pomfrey had given them spoonfuls of Pepper-Up potion to prevent the flu.

"Now, I want you to start with his hand, working up the arm massaging in minute circles. The hand is very important, so try to patient. I know it's a long job." The doctor stood next to Charlie and watched attentively, making comments and occasionally correcting him. Charlie glanced at Bill, his eyes silently asking permission but Bill was looking determinedly out of the window. Charlie's hands were so soft and gentle, but the skin was so pleasantly rough. The way the friction rubbed against the hairs on his arms… Bill forced himself not to blush.

**Now this has developed a plotline, so there will be more! Thank you to all my reviewers but ShadowCat17 especially coz she Pmed my arse back into writing this.**


	3. Chapter 3

"So you think it was…normal then? Nothing to worry about?" Bill's voice quavered, obviously unsure.

"Well, yeah. Nobody could help that. It was your body's reaction, not your mind's. No feelings, right?" A different voice. Charlie vaguely recognized it. One of Bill's friends, a Muggleborn perhaps, in Bill class at Hogwarts. Matt or something. Charlie squashed the instinctive protectiveness that rose within him, so automatically he almost didn't notice. There wasn't a time when he couldn't remember being slightly jealous of Bill's friends but he'd hoped he'd got over it. They could be cool, high in his brothers esteem and Bill would see them as equals, share real secrets with them, and ask them for advice. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie knew he'd always just be the little brother. And, in a way, he resented that.

"That's what I thought the first time, but for the past three weeks? Every time?"

A shrug. "I'm sure it's nothing. Really. You just need to get laid, and anyway," There was a pause. "I'm sure if your brother did that to me it would have the same eff-"

"Hey! Don't talk about him like that!" Bill's voice sounded angry, harsh.

There was an apologetic laugh. "What? You gotta admit the kid's hot."

"He's not a kid. You went to school with him."

"Sorry Bill, but it's a fair point. He is attractive. I honestly can't believe someone hasn't already snapped him up." There was a long silence. "Is he seeing anyone?"

There was a growl.

"One of the doctors keeps flirting with him, I think." Bill was muttering, sounding grumpy. Charlie had to strain to catch the words. "I can't explain why, but it really annoys me. I just wanted to hit him for looking at Charlie that way."

Charlie felt himself blush; suddenly wishing that he wasn't stood outside Bill's room, and had just gone straight in. He swallowed. The friend's delayed reassurances sounded through the door.

"I'm sure it's nothing man, just lack of action, you know?"

The redhead knocked, and entered the room, smiling casually as if he'd heard nothing. "Morning!" He said, brightly.

Bill looked startled for a second, then relieved, then for some reason, annoyed.

"Hey. You remember Mark? He was in my class at school." Charlie nodded and shook his hand with a forced grin, then quickly turned away. It was him. Mark, that bastard. The one who'd tried coming onto him in the showers when they were young. The one who had always tried to get Bill to ditch Charlie after his rejection, the one who had spread rumours of the younger Weasley's orientation all over the school. Bill, of course, knew none of this. Charlie hadn't wanted to seem needy, half afraid that if he told, Bill would believe his friend over him.

"Yes, I do. Mum sent you cake, Bill. And a jumper. Blue with little runes around the cuffs." He dropped the bag into the visitors chair. "Oh, and Fleur sent you these; she wants to see you." He indicated to the flowers.

"Well, I don't want to see her." Came the grumpy reply. Charlie glanced at Bill, and he sat up in his bed, arms folded and looking decidedly moody. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd held.

Seeing Mark's face brought back the memory of Bill and him chasing each other round the orchid on Charlie's borrowed broom in there third year. Bill had invited him to join in but Charlie had been upset and sulked in his room, ending up watching both boys swoop and dive far higher than they should. A glance at Mark's face brought the memory back, and quickly he busied himself arranging the flowers Fleur sent in a vase and placing them on the windowsill so they could get the benefit of the light. He could feel Bill's friend's appraising look trace the contour's of his back, and held back an irritable scowl. Let the bastard look if he thought there was something to see.

There was a strange noise like a growl, and a very human yelp from behind him. Charlie spun around to see Mark leaping back from the bed, looking alarmed. For a second, the room froze. The tension was almost audible. Then Mark hissed, touching the blossoming mark on his chin tenderly, then turned, grabbed his jacket from the chair and slammed the door on his way out. Bill was glaring viciously, his breathing fast.

Charlie opened his mouth to ask what the hell had just happened, but turned, cowed by the anger radiating off his brother, to readjust the flowers, and push open the window. He needed a subject change. There was a long silence.

"Mum heard the doctor say you could leave the hospital soon. She wants you back at the Burrow where she can look after you." Charlie sighed, turning back to face his brother. He hadn't wanted to tell Bill this, but he thought his brother could use the distraction.

Bill shook his head. "I want to stay with you." He croaked. There was an almost pleading look in his eyes. They both knew he couldn't stand to be around there mother, to have her fuss and fiddle, whilst constantly nagging about his hair, clothes, choice of music, choice of anything for that matter.

The was another long pause, then Bill said in a very, very quiet voice, almost as a confession, "I don't know what I am anymore."

Charlie sat down by his brother and pulled the man's head to his chest, arms protectively encircling the familiar form. He could hear the pain in his brother's voice, and it killed him. Bill was suffering so much, and all because of that bastard.

"Everything is pissing me off – like Mark just then, and when the doctor pinched your bum this morning, even when that stupid female was flirting without outside the door."

"You noticed Chris do that?"

Bill growled, sitting back suddenly, folding his arms and frowning.

"So it's Chris now, is it?"

There was a long pause. Charlie evenly held his brothers eyes. He'd never heard Bill speak in that tone before. He'd sounded almost jealous. Eventually, Bill broke the gaze and looked down, sighing.

"Sorry, Charlie." He leaned forward and resettled against his brother's chest. Another silence began to stretch out, but Charlie held on to his brother, rubbing soothing patters into his back.

" I…I wanted to tear his head off." Bill whispered. "I hate him for the way he looks at you, the way he finds excuses to touch you-" He broke off, and sat back against his pillows, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them.

"That's not all though, Charlie. I'm far more detestable than that." The older boys shoulders caved. He couldn't meet his brother's eyes, and let out a long breath of air. "What's worse is I wanted to remonstrate you for letting him." Bill sighed, turning his body away, utterly self-loathing. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears spreading along his lashes. "I wanted punish you and claim you for my own, Charlie. To force myself upon you and make you mine." His blue eyes flickered to Charlie's checking his younger brother understood, but quickly flitted away, afraid. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I've begun to think this way, but every time I see you, I just, it's just…"

He trailed off as Charlie pulled their bodies together again, and held his brother as his shoulders shook. He didn't trust himself to speak. When Bill pulled away, he stood back, pulled off his t-shirt, kicked off his shoes and climbed into Bill's bed.

"Wolf morality is not like human morality." He murmured, allowing Bill to turn him over and spoon against his back. "It's different, more intense, works on a different basis…I guess you're a little confused, as the lines of -"

Warm breath tickled his ear, fanning down his neck. Charlie swallowed, blushing. Something hot was pressed like a brand into his back. Bill inhaled deeply, his strong arms wrapping tightly around his brothers chest, and holding tight. It was almost too much.

"Bill…"

A set of teeth ghosted over the curve of his neck, followed by a warm flood of air.

"Bill…" Charlie murmured biting his lip. The arms around his chest adjusted and he felt a smooth forehead press against his skin.

"Charlie…just…just let me hold you…"

"Please?"


	4. Chapter 4

"You need to let go, Bill." _Before I beg you not to._

It was half an hour later. Charlie was now painfully aroused by those restless hands that kept brushing over the bare skin of his chest and through the fabric of his jeans. Bill, eyes shut, seemed lost in the sensations; the heat, the closeness of their forms; simply growled softly. He sounded sleepy, and by the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing, Charlie would have believed he was. Except the hands were still moving.

It was so long since they had been as close as this, obviously physically, but perhaps mentally too. It was nice to be so close to his brother – he'd missed his brother when he'd left Hogwarts, when Bill had gone off to be a Curse Breaker, when he himself had chosen work in Romania, when neither of them could get home for Christmas', or Easter. It was nice to feel his brother again; those arms that always soothed him after his nightmares, the laid there with him and listened to the rain after his first ever girlfriend had dumped him.

He'd been thirteen and his heart was broken. Bill, just turned fifteen, must have been on his 3000th girlfriend. He'd said this would happen, told his brother that the girl wasn't right for him, that Slytherin girls had no loyalty, but Charlie hadn't listened. Now, he was hurting, but instead of saying 'I told you so' at the sight of Charlie's teary face, he'd simply held the boy, then taken his hand, lead him his dormitory right at the top of Gryffindor Tower and laid with him, listening to the rain. Nothing had been said – nothing needed to be said, and when he left that dormitory, tear ducts dry, he'd felt stronger. It had always been enough to know his brother was there. With Bill behind him, little Charlie had felt he could do anything.

It'd been the same on his first Quidditch match, and then again when the Quidditch Capitan had switched him from Chaser to Seeker in his second term playing. All the night before he'd been totally unable to sleep. Until Bill had come to him with an understanding smile, and slid between the cool sheets beside him.

"_Bill? What…What if it all goes wrong tomorrow? What if I screw everything up?"_

_Bill had chuckled and squeezed him. "You won't. It's statistically impossible for one person to screw everything up." Charlie had tried to smile, but didn't look reassured. Bill sighed softly._

"_You won't screw up. You've got good eyesight, fast reflexes and you know the game." He pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. "You'll be fine." _

"_What if I'm not?" The previous seeker had dropped out midterm after a Bludger had given him a mild concussion that kept making him think it was Wednesday._

_Bill smiled. "Just on the off chance your not, then I'll come to the Hospital Wing everyday with a different type of Honeydukes chocolate. It'll be alright."_

Charlie had smiled and fallen asleep then. And when Bill had slipped and fallen down the icy steps of the Owlery and broken both his right arm and his left leg in the winter holiday of Charlie's third-year, the younger brother had remembered, and brought Honeydukes fudge (as Bill had never really liked their chocolate). Charlie sighed. They had always been so close, shared every secret, often a bed…. The man sighed again. He needed some head-space. He needed Remus Lupin.

Pressing a kiss to his brother's forehead, he found the small ticklish spot that made his brother squirm, and wriggled free. Bill moaned, still sleeping, yet his face forming into a frown. Charlie picked up his t-shirt from the floor, tapping it with his wand to make it warm, and watched his brother latch onto it. Hopefully he'd be back before Bill woke up, but just in case, he scribbled a note.

He Apparated to Remus's doorstep, and was glad to here noises from within. It was always polite to Owl to announce a visit, but this was important. Charlie would just have to hope he wasn't interrupting too much, and pressed the small bell to announce his arrival. He had taken a gamble coming to Remus's country abode, but he knew his parents, Ginny and Fleur were staying in Grimmauld Place. It was a nice place, a big garden full of over-growing flowers and nice stonewalls. It felt good to be out in the sunshine again, not cooped up in that horrible, sterile city hospital. He hated hospitals.

Sirius Black answered the door, slightly out of breath. He was shirtless and smiling, being a free man was clearly agreeing with him. He frowned in a confused way upon seeing Charlie, but greeted him warmly none the less.

"Uh, Charlie, Hello."

"Hello, Sirius. I'm not disturbing you am I? Do you mind if I talk to Remus?"

"Uh…" Sirius blushed slightly, maintaining his smile. "Just gimme one second…" The door closed.

Charlie chuckled despite himself. Whoops.

The door opened, and Harry appeared, fully clothed and grinning, looking rather pink in the face. Charlie was surprised to see him, but hid it in a friendly hug and smile.

"Hello Charlie," The last time Charlie had seen Harry, the boy had been a nervous wreck, being dragged off the battlefield covered in blood. Now, he looked radiant, healthy and grinning, the picture of happiness. His hair more messy than usual, and with a blush, he noticed the label of Harry's t-shirt poking out the front of his collar.

"Hello Harry, How're you?"

"I'm fine thank you. Yourself?"

"I'm alright, I kind of wanted to talk to Remus."

At his name, the man appear at Harry's shoulder, smiling. His eyes were knowing, he had been expecting a visit from Charlie, having already seen Arthur and Molly Weasley, both separately and together, and Ginny, although, the golden haired man had a shrewd suspicion she had merely come to see Harry, and experience the teen had not enjoyed.

"Charlie, come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thank you. If its not too much trouble."

"No, no, of course not." He was lead to a small homely kitchen, full of light, where Sirius, now with a shirt, poked the kettle with his wand until it steamed, and pored the water into cups.

"So how is Bill?" Remus asked, smiling kindly. Two cups of tea were placed between them with a plate of biscuits, and then they were left alone.

"He's…"

"Different?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, we've always been really close, told each other everything, etcetera, etcetera, you know the whole thing with brothers, but now everything seems so strange." Charlie paused, but Remus didn't say anything, so he continued. "It's like we're a different kind of close now, and well -" Charlie didn't know what to say.

"Your probably his pack now." Sirius said, walking into the kitchen with Harry. "Sorry, Harry thought we could be helpful."

"How do you mean?"

Harry sat down with a sigh and pulled a biscuit from the plate. "I'm about to tell you something that, well, Bill worked it out, but that people don't know."

"So we're trusting you not to tell either." Sirius intoned. Charlie nodded.

"You have my oath."

"I am now a werewolf," Harry said simply, reaching across the table to clasp Remus' hand. "It was an accident – it happened to save my life -"

"When you got taken?" Charlie asked, unable to help himself.

Harry pursed his lips and nodded. "Moony found me, and saved my life. I would have bleed to death otherwise." He flashed a thankful smile to Remus. "But, anyway. After I turned, the people closest to me became the most important. No one else seemed to matter as much anymore."

"Pack is a compulsion to a werewolf, not merely a need. That's one of the reasons lone werewolves are so mad, and why so many wolves out-of-pack commit suicide." Remus continued. "A wolf needs contact, security, safety, every thing a pack gives. Despite what lore and legend says, werewolves are essentially social creatures."

"But Bill isn't a werewolf."

"You don't know that Charlie, not until the full moon." Sirius' smile was sad, understanding.

"I know Bill is a unique case," Remus sighed, "but you may find that even though it can't come out, there is still a wolf in there. Has he been more possessive recently? To Fleur, particularly? I'd expect she's in the most awkward position."

"How so?"

"The change…intensifies nearly all feelings in a person." Harry said with the faintest trace of a blush. "For example, what I'd previously told myself was just a crush on Remus and Sirius, became, well…"

"He needed us. He loved us before, but you understand, the one feeling the werewolf cannot touch is love, it did add a burning lust to it. If Bill loves Fleur, then he will need to have her."

"It's most acute nearest the change and the moon, and increases if you're away from Pack. It's a physical pain if your away too long." He shuddered in voluntarily. Sirius moved round the table and started to knead his shoulders.

"It's not Fleur…"

"What?"

"It's not Fleur he's like that with. He won't see her, or talk to her or anything. Before…before he got attacked, I remember I'm saying he wanted to break up with her."

Silence greeted this confession.

"Who is he like it with, Charlie?" Remus asked gently.

"Me."


	5. Chapter 5

"That's…"

"Charlie, you must understand, a werewolf's morality is different to a humans."

"I know; Seventh Year Care of Magical Creatures essay on the psychology of werewolves." Charlie sighed.

Remus smiled slightly. "If you're closest to Bill, then it makes sense that you're the one he wants as Pack. Depending on how wolfy he is, chances are it won't be incest to him, it would be instinct."

"You he wants to-"

Sirius grinned, despite the severity of the conversation. "All wolves get horny around the moon. That's is a about a week, and already these to can feel the pull of it. Chances are he can to, and believe me, that will be on the forefront of his mind."

"Not everything in life can be judged by societies morals. You've got to remember, morality was decided by muggles, its one of the reasons magic when underground in the medieval ages."

"What do you want, Charlie?" Harry asked.

"I don't know"

There was a long pause.

"I don't honestly think you'd be hear if you weren't open to the possibility, Charlie."

The red-head blushed fiercely, unable to meet any of the eyes that looked upon him. He stood up.

"Thank you for the tea."

Charlie Weasley stood at the side of the violently purple magical joke shop in Diagon Alley. He didn't know why he rung the bell. It was stupid. It was too late at night for one thing – he'd spent most of the day thinking in a park and not returned to the hospital. This really was stupid. They'd get angry, offended, and rightfully so. He was about to ask them, to accuse them–

"Hello? Oh, Charlie! Come in. It's bloody ages since we've seen you." Fred, or perhaps George's face had appeared at the door. "Come upstairs." His brother led him up a narrow set of stairs that formed most of the hallway. At the top he turned, the room opening out to reveal a rather untidy living room, with a beaten up brown sofa, coffee table and many large cardboard boxes.

"Charlie, you prick. You haven't visited in ages!" Fred said, standing up and punching him good-naturedly on the arm. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Actually I'm-"

"Do ignore the mess, were waiting for the documents of our warehouse to process so we can clear the space. You should see the guest room – its packed!"

"Coffee?"

"Oh, yes."

Charlie smiled and leant back against the sofa. Like this, he almost felt normal. George had gone to the kitchen, and Fred bent over the table, half-heartedly stacking papers, letters and newspaper clippings to make way for the cups, walking all the while.

"So why are you here?" George asked, coming back into the room and settling himself on the sofa. Fred promptly joined him, after dropping the stack of papers into a cardboard box.

"I'm staying in London. I rent a little muggle flat so I can be close to Bill."

"No dragons?" Fred asked. "What happened to never wanting to leave Romania?"

"Compassionate leave."

There was a minute pause, before George picked up the conversation again.

"So how's Bill doing?"

"Mum's getting frantic that he won't let her in. She keeps coming round here unexpectedly whenever she's been turned away. You should go and see her too. She's playing hell with our sex life."

"That's kind of why I'm here…"

"About Mum?"

"No, err…don't get offended by this but when you were kids, did you at all -" Charlie had turned scarlet. It was odd to see such a muscular, down to earth man blush. George smiled and shared a glance with Fred.

"Fuck?" Fred asked grinning.

Charlie looked awkward. The twins cracked identical smirks.

"Don't worry, we'll spare you the details."

"Can't you remember Mum walloping us with her broomstick when she found us in the attic?" Fred asked, sounding actually curious rather than teasing.

"Seemed like she shouted for days. Wasn't as bad as that time she found us in the barn though…" George's voice had a misty quality to it. His eyes looked distant. "Gods, that was fun."

"Um, I kind of wanted to talk to you about…"

"We know, we figured." They said in unison.

"Sex with Bill, right?"

Charlie, if possible, turned an even brighter shade of scarlet.

"Yeah," he murmured, barely audible.

"Morality is whatever works for you, doofus."

"Every situation is unique. It's only stupid muggles that think there's some divine set of rules telling us what to do. You've been listening to mum to much. Right and wrong don't exist. Wrong is only wrong if it's wrong for you, or hurts someone."

There was a long pause. Charlie stared at his coffee cup. There was a sigh, and then two identical weights pressed down on the sofa each side of him, as the twins sat.

"Be honest with yourself, Char, when you were a kid, didn't you ever want to try things with Bill?"

"Ya know, fun things?"

Charlie swallowed.

"We did."

"And still do by the way."

"Lots."

Charlie sighed and opened his mouth to speak.

"Do you really think it's wrong Charlie? Really?"

"Do you honestly think its wrong for one soul trapped in two bodies to not want to be close?"

"I...I don't know…."

"Bill's situation is unique. Our situation's unique. Everyone situation is unique."

"How do you think Sirius can justify shagging the 18 year old son of his dead best friend, who his other best friend turned into a werewolf and also just happens to be shagging?"

"You just need to choose what you want to do."

Fred and George stood up, placing their cups on the table, and left the room.

"Stay here tonight, and think about it. You can have the sofa."

"Sleep on it; you'll feel better."

A blanket came from nowhere and hit the older brother squarely in the side of the head.

The next morning when Charlie awoke, he did feel better, despite the fact his back ached from the night on the sofa. What did it matter what the world thought, Bill was his brother, he loved him. If Bill needed him in that way, so be it. It wasn't as if his brother was unattractive, even with those scars, there was still something about him. He hummed a light tune as he fried the twins some eggs for breakfast and left them under a warming charm on the counter with a hastily scribbled thank you note. He wanted to see Bill.

The streets were quiet as he made his way to St. Mungos, and the nurse on the front desk smiled at him, knowing who he was, before returning to the line of comically injured people in the queue before her. In the forefront was a ghost arguing loudly with a vampire, who somehow happened to have a ghostly axe stuck in his head. The ghost was making very clear he wanted it back.

The corridor to Bill's room, and the magically operated elevator were deserted. Charlie sped along them, not knowing why he his feet carried him so fast. He wanted to see Bill.

But when he got there, the room was empty, bed made, unslept in. Charlie's heart stopped.


End file.
